


snowy with a chance of love

by peaches (crocustongues)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, a cat named tofu, domestic bliss & glorification of hot chocolate, warm christmas fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocustongues/pseuds/peaches
Summary: When Koushi comes home one evening in the cold and dreary December, teeth chattering and cursing under his breath about the snow, he’s absolutely not surprised to find Tooru sitting cross-legged in front of a cardboard box labeled ‘LIGHTS’.





	snowy with a chance of love

**Author's Note:**

> hey pals! i wrote this fic for the oisuga fanzine (thank you to everyone who supported the zine & i'm truly grateful dot com) there's a art that goes with this piece made by cupnicks that's in the zine & i'm so shook honestly (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ °∘❉∘° ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Tooru is a big advocate of doing things for the aesthetic. He likes decorating the flat with odd little ornaments that on their own, add some personality and flair, but together… _well_. He likes the way the purple succulents look in violently coloured ceramic pots and the way the plaid throw pillows look against their couch (which, thankfully, had been Koushi’s pick. He loves Tooru, he really does, but he doesn’t want to be saddled with an eyesore for the rest of forever).

He also _really_ likes fairy lights. They add some _pop_ , he says, jazz up the room a little, they have a certain _je ne sais quoi_ but he _loves_ them. Tooru’s only allowed them on very few occasions because Koushi is, to put it plainly, lazy. Koushi doesn’t like cleaning up, ever, much less when they’ve actively worked to make the house look pretty, and he doesn’t want to spend his hard-earned time off untangling wires.

So, Tooru’s only allowed them on:

1) His own birthday (Koushi figures he can do this much for him, since with great love comes great sacrifice, as the kids say)  
2) Koushi’s birthday (Tooru _insists_ and Koushi’s heart is made of soft butter and cotton candy) and  
3) Christmas (for obvious reasons)

When Koushi comes home one evening in the cold and dreary December, teeth chattering and cursing under his breath about the snow, he’s absolutely not surprised to find Tooru sitting cross-legged in front of a cardboard box labeled ‘LIGHTS’.

Tofu, their cat, sports a similar expression of distaste regarding Tooru from her spot on the couch. She doesn’t like it when Tooru messes about with the lights because he _always_ manages to get her tangled in, too. She jumps out of the way, giving Tooru a wide berth when Koushi sits down next to her.

“Is it that time of the year already?” Koushi asks, sighing. His feet are cold and they _hurt_.

“Why, Kou-chan, how could you forget! I’m just trying to check if the lights still work. Wanna help?”

Koushi takes one look at the sheer number of lights and says _no, no thank you very much, perhaps another time_. Tooru snorts at that reply and goes back to his fairy lights, hard at work trying to untie them while simultaneously trying to stay free of stray wires that might ensnare an inattentive mind.

They spend a good half-hour like that—Tooru with his lights, and Koushi and Tofu snoozing lightly, tired from the day’s activities. Tooru takes a break, stretching his hands up, listening to his spine crack satisfactorily.

He looks to Koushi, about to call out to him, to ask if he wanted to set up the Christmas tree soon, but he smiles instead. It isn’t often he can feel time freeze, especially not in cold and weary December, with piling work and Christmas shopping, but he relishes this moment with a selfish sort of satisfaction; the kind that he wants to step back and take a picture of, to frame on the wall. The kind that rewards him with the same gentle light that softens the lines on Koushi’s face. The kind that reminds him why he fell in love; the wrinkles by his eyes, the snark and sarcasm laced in the sweetest voice, the way he makes Tooru’s heart beat just a little faster. Even if he does drool in his sleep. Even if it frightens Tooru (just a little) of how attractive he finds that. 

He stands up and almost falls over, his legs seem to have fallen asleep on him, having sat cross-legged for so long. He stretches one last time and heads to the kitchen. Tofu follows him in and rubs her head against his legs, apparently done with her nap for the day. He sets the milk on to warm and coos at her until she tires of him, setting off on another adventure.

Tooru turns back to his now warm milk, pulling out some chocolate from the fridge and stirring it in, piece by piece, perhaps eating a few (maybe more, Koushi isn’t here to catch him in the act, anyway). He adds in some spices, because he knows Koushi like the back of his palm, Koushi, who hates the flat, sweet taste of what is only comparable to divine ambrosia— _hot chocolate._

“Koushi,” he says, not quite wanting to wake him up from his sleep, “Wake up, sweetheart. I’ve made you some hot chocolate.”

“Wha—“ Koushi mumbles, blinking blearily at Tooru. “Thanks.”

They chat idly—about Koushi’s work, shopping lists they have yet to get to, Christmas parties they have to attend this year, Tofu’s vet appointment. The sun sets almost completely, then, casting warm orange and gold across the living room. Koushi changes into his pyjamas, pulling on a sweater that matches the one Tooru has on. It’s objectively ugly, all clashing colours and glittery writing, but Koushi can’t seem to find it in his heart to throw them away. Tooru had bought them a few Christmases ago, they’d been on sale at one of those kitsch stores next to the station on his way home. He hadn’t been able to resist, he’d said, and _look Kou-chan, doesn’t this rabbit on the sleeve look exactly like you?_

At twenty-seven, and having been together for the last five of those years, Tooru and Koushi are no strangers to teamwork. They set up the tree together seamlessly, hiding its cheap, plasticky branches behind golden baubles and a rainbow of tinsel. They don’t have the heart to throw the tree out, after all these years, it is as much part of the family as any of them, like an old auntie with poor hearing they see once a year, who tests their patience but brings the most wonderful plum cake to Christmas dinner. Iwaizumi—who’d been working at the café around the corner from university then—had given it to them when they’d first moved into this apartment.

Tooru pulls out the tree topper last. Instead of a star, it’s a tiny picture of the three of them out in the snow with their arms wrapped around each other, dressed in thick woollens and morning sunlight from head to toe, and a curled up Tofu between them. Whatever little of the snowy backdrop is visible makes Tooru’s hair stand out and blends into Koushi’s, setting the air around them alight with an ethereal flavour of magic. Tofu dislikes the cold with a passion, but she sits still for this picture—a true Christmas miracle.

It’s one of the many reminders of the way Christmas is structured; it’s incredibly easy to be swept away in the chaos of to-do lists and working overtime. Time slips away ever so quickly in fleeting touches and half-smiles, but in moments like these—tangled fairy lights not included—time curls into a full stop, every moment stretching into an infinity of its own, bursting at the seams with love and good cheer and bits of candy cane stuck between your teeth.

✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩ °∘❉∘° ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

**Author's Note:**

> as usual u can find me on tumblr @gulabijamuns & on twitter @floralsonnets 
> 
> pls leave a comment as every comment goes into the piggy to help me escape mother gothel's tower, evil forces stir in the distance, just over the horizon & i must fuck off before they come have tea with mother gothel


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